PS 3545 
.H83 S6 
1899 



copvi ^OME VERSES 



by 



HELEN HAY 



p.^:^:M^:^:^^.^^"€:€^.^:^:.^^':^':€:^.^:^.^.^.^ 



I Library of Congress. ^I 



Chap 
Shelf.. 




imi 



^• 



'm 



^jVqUNITED STATES OF AMERICA. A\S 



^^ 



SOME VEKSES 

BY 

HELEN HAY 



SOME VERSES 
By HELEN HAY 



^'^./x: 



CHICAGO & 
NEW YORK 
MDCCCXCIX 




HERBERT 
S. STONE 
& COMPANY 



WW 



COPYRIGHT 1898, BY 
HERBERT S. STONE & CO 



58658 



SECOND IMPRESSION 



TO MY FATHER 



CONTENTS 



SONNETS 

THE DAYS 


PAGE 
. 3 


THE EVERLASTING SNOWS 


4 


THRONE AND ALTAR 


5 


EAST AND WEST . 


6 


THE BATTLE 


. 7 


WATER AND WINE 


8 


PITY ME NOT .... 


9 


A DREAM IN FEVER 


10 


A WOMAN'S PRIDE . 


. U 


AGE .... 


12 


IN THE MIST 


. 13 


ON THE MOUNTAIN'S SLOPE 


14 


TO THE BELOVED 


. 15 


MY BROOK 


16 


BENEATH THE MOON 


. 17 


THE RUBY 


18 


SPRING AND AUTUMN 


. 19 


THE LOST MOMENT 


20 


THE COMING OF LOVE 


. 21 


EVENING AT WASHINGTON 


22 


LOVE'S KISS .... 


. 23 


THE SCARLET THREAD 


24 


AUTUMN .... 


. 25 


THE TIDE OF THE HEART 


26 



VIU 



CONTENTS 



POEMS 

DOES THE PEARL KNOW? 

IN AUTUMN .... 

WAITING FOR DAY . 

THE ANGEL OF INDIFFERENCE 

DEAR DEAD WOMEN 

THE GRAVE OF HOPE . 

TREES OF THE WILDERNESS 

THE LOVE OF THE ROSE 

IN THE GREEN YEW 

THE DEAD NIGHT 

SONGS .... 

SIGH NOT FOR LOVE 

AMBITION AND LOVE 

TO B. D. . 

LITTLE SAD FACE . 

EARTH'S TEARS— AND MAN'S . 

I HAVE SEEN WHAT THE SERAPHS HAVE 

A LASS FROM THE WOODS 

WAS THERE ANOTHER SPRING? 

TO DIANE .... 

BIRD LOVE, ROSE LOVE 

THE JOY OF LIFE 

MIST .... 

THE LAST CLOUD 

SONG .... 

IN THE GRAVE .... 

THE FLOWERS OF PROSERPINE 



SEEN 



PAGE 
. 29 

31 
. 33 

34 
. 37 

39 
. 40 

43 
. 43 

45 
. 47 

48 
. 49 

51 
. 52 

54 
. 55 

57 
. 59 

60 
. 62 

64 

66 

67 
. 68 

69 
. 71 



SOl^NETS 



BAYS TO COME 

A LONG gi'im corridor — a sullen bar 

Of light athwart the darkness — where no 

fleet 
Pale sunshine spreads for dark his winding 

sheet ; 
A light, not born of noon or placid star, 
Glows lurid thro' the gloom — while fi'om 

afar. 
Beats marching of innumerable feet. 
Is this the place where tragic armies meet? 
The throb of terror that presages war? — 

I strain to see, then softly on my sight 
There falls the vision, manifold they come — 
White listless Day chained to her brotlier 

Night— 
Their hands are shackled and their lips ai'e 

dumb, 
And as they meet the air where each one 

dies, 
They turn and smile at me— with weary eyes. 
3 



THE EVERLASTING 
SNOWS 

And shall it be that these undaunted snows 
That poise so lightly on the mountains' crest, 
A lily laid to cheer its lonely breast, 
Shall their chill smile still face the wind, 

that blows 
Across the field whereon no blossom grows, 
And light the land where no gay life may rest 
Save glowing hasty fingers of the West, 
When our two hearts lie cold beneath the 

rose? 

These silver flakes of ancient hoary frost. 
Surviving all our joj^s' supremest powers. 
And though the petals of your lips be lost 
And gone the summer of your golden head. 
This pale eternal growth of winter's flowers 
Shall still live on, though our sweet love be 
dead. 

4 



THEONE AND ALTAR 

He had a vision of a golden throne 
Fronting an altar; both alike were bare, 
But o'er the purple of the regal chair 
Blazed the device, "I wait for him alone 
Who with the world has held his soul his 

own.*' 
He sadly turned, this height he could not 

dare. 
But, stay, the text upon the altar there, 
" I wait for him who has not made a moan 
Howe'er his kind have used his heaven-sent 

dower ; 
Fear not, and burn thine incense, lowly 

heart." 
Then sudden brightness turns the averted face, 
To holy sense of majesty and power — 
And a voice: ''Master, this indeed thou art." 
While wondrous music trembles thro' the 

space. 

5 



EAST AND WEST 

You have not ceased for me. Though stern- 
browed Fate 
Laid our two paths apart ; when in the West 
She gave you over to the seas, and great 
Wide winds of enterprise, and sot your breast 
Against the suns and shadows of the earth; 
Then with a gilded largess, led my way 
Toward the time-worn East, who paints her 

dearth 
With purple vain imaginings; the praise 
Of all her languid incense and the pride 
Of ancient mysteries and hopeless creeds. 
Hold for my heart no spell when warm and 

wide 
I see across the blue of Isis' veil 
The thunderous breakers of your ocean pale, 
And glints of prairie sun through river reeds. 



THE battl:e 

The pallid waves caress the paler sand, 
Falter and tremble, then reluctant wane. 
Fearing advance, yet venturing again. 
Grey deep sea waves that never knew the land, 
Tired with the tumult, stretch a crooked hand 
To win a precious sweet surcease from pain, 
But, glancing back upon the mighty main. 
Perforce return to swell the strong command. 
So fretful Life sees Death's cold sands and 

faints 
To fling thereon the wearing of her wave. 
Yet, turning ere she finds the gloomy shore, 
Seeing ahead the idle senseless grave. 
Behind, the Kings, the Patriots and the 

Saints, 
She sighing turns to face the fight once 

more. 



WATER A]ST) WIKE 

I ASKED for water and they brought me 

wine; 
Wine in a jewelled chalice, where the gold 
Gleamed thro' the purple beads, as ii un- 
rolled, 
One saw the sun-rays of a life-time shine. 
So drinking, I forgot my dream divine 
Of crystal purity, for in my hold 
Were Wealth and Fame and Passions man- 
ifold, 
Which with the draught I fancied might 
be mine. 
'' Ah, Youth, " I said. ''Ah, Faith and Love!" 

I said; 
" These are but broken lances in the strife! 
What shall remain when all these things are 

sped?" 
Then crashed the dream. I clutched the 

hand of Fate 
Amid the ruins of my shattered life, 
And found, the Gods had cheated, all too late. 



PITY ME 
XOT 

Cbfel and fair I within thy hollowed hand 

My heart is lying as a little rc«e. 

So faint and faded, scarce conld one supfH>5e 

It might look in thine eyes and tmderstand 

The song they sing unto a weary land, 

Making it radiant, yet bec-anse I dare 

To love thee, being weak, lose not thine air 

Of passive distanc-e, fatefnl and most grand. 

Pity me nor, nor turn away awhile 

Till absence's cloud has c-aught my passion up. 

Ah, be not kind I for love's sake, be not kind I 

Grant me the tragic deepness of the cup, 

And when thine eyes have fiashed and made 

me blind, 
Kill me beneath the shadow of thv smile. 



A DEEAM IN 
FEVER 

A VAST screen of unequal downward lines, 
An orange purple halo 'round the rain, 
Twists from a space whose very size is pain. 
Here in this vortex day with night combines; 
Ruby and Emerald glint their blazing spines; 
Gosing and smothering, wheels a brazen main, 
A shuddering sea of silence; in its train 
A thought — a cry, whose snake-fear trembling 

twines 
Around, above, alive yet uttered not; 
But my heart hears, and , shrieking dies of 

dread, 
Then soaring breaks its bands and o'er the rim 
White winged it rends the dai'k with jagged 

blot, 
Glimpsing the iris gateway barred ahead, 
And, gazing thro', the eyes of cherubim. 

10 



A YvOMAN'S 
PRIDE 

I WILL not look for him, I will not hear 
My heart's loud beating, as I strain to see 
Across the rain forlorn and hopelessly, 
Nor starting, think 'tis he that draws so near. 
I will forget how tenderly and dear 
He might in coming hold his arms to me. 
For I will prove what woman's pride can be 
When faint love lingers in the darkness 
di'ear. 

I will not — ah, but should he come to- night 
I think my life might break thro' very bliss, 
This little will should so be torn apart 
That all my soul might fail in golden light 
And let me die; so do I long for this. 
Ah, love, thine eyes!— Nay, love— Thy heart, 
thy heart ! 

11 



AGE 

I HAVE a dream, that somewhere in the days, 
Since when a m}Tiad suns have burned and 

died, 
There was a time my soul was not for pride 
Of spendtlu'ift youth, the pensioner who pays 
Dole for the pain of searching thro* the haze 
Vhere joy lies hidden. As the pu5 balls ride. 
The wandering wind across the Summer's 

side, 
So winged my spirit in a golden blaze 
Of pure and careless Present — Future naught 
But a sad dotard's wail — and I was young. 
Who now am old. Now years like flashes seem, 
Lambent or gi-ey on the gi'eat wall of 

Thought. 
This is a song a poet may have sung. 
No proof remains, I have but di'eamed a dream. 



13 



IN THE MIST 

Ah! love, my love, upon this alien shore 
I lean and watch the pale uneasy ships 
Slip thro ' the waving mist in strange eclipse, 
Like spirits of some time and land of yore. 
I did not think my heart could love thee 

more. 
And yet, when lightlier than a swallow dips. 
The wind lays ghostly kisses on my lips, 
I seem to know of love the eternal core. 
Here is no throbbing of impassioned breath 
To beat upon my cheek, no pulsing heart 
Which might be silenced by the touch of 

Death, 
No smile which other smile has softly kissed 
Or doting gaze which Time must draw apart, 
But spirit's spirit in the trailing mist. 



13 



ox THE MOrX- 
TAIXS SLOPE 

High on the moimtain's slope I pause and 

turn ; 
Over my head, by the rough crag-points high, 
Seems rent and torn the tender hovering sky, 
Till almost — ^through — I see a Heaven-spark 

burn; 
Then downward to the sleeping world I yearn. 
Whose eyes so heavy droop they may not try 
To catch the higher gleam, and live thereby ; 
Youth passes graveward, and they never learn. 
Then faint with brooding o'er a careless earth, 
I turn to Xature and her broad warm breast, 
Strive for a friendship with her stmburnt 

mirth, 
Teach my sad sotd to catch her cadence deep. 
Dream that in her absorbed my heart mtist rest ; 
But Xatin-e smiles, and turns once more in 

sleep. 

U 



TO THE BELOVED 

Beloved, when the tides of life run low 
As sobbing echoes of a dead refrain, 
And I may sit and watch the silent rain 
And muse upon the fulness of my woe, 
Then is my biu'den lighter, for I know 
The roses of my heart shall bloom again 
The fairer for this plenitude of pain. 
And Summer shall forget the chilly snow. 

But when life calls me to its revels gay, 
And I must face the world's wide-gazing 

eyes, 
Kor find sweet rest by night or peace by day. 
E'en seems your love, where I would turn 

for aid. 
As distant as the blue in sunny skies; 
Then am I very lonely and afi'aid. 



15 



MY BKOOK 

Earth holds no sweeter secret anywhere 
Than this my brook, that lisps along the green 
Of mossy channels, where slim birch trees lean 
Like tall pale ladies, whose delicious hair, 
Lures and invites the kiss of wanton air. 
The smooth soft grasses, delicate between 
Xhe rougher stalks, by waifs alone are seen. 
Shy things that live in sweet seclusion there. 

And is it still the same, and do the eyes 
Of every silver ripple meet the trees 
That bend above like guarding emerald skies? 
I turn, who read the city's beggai'ed book, 
And hear across the moan of many seas 
The whisper and the laughter of my brook. 



16 



BENEATH THE MOON 

Give me thy hand, Beloved! Here where still 
The night wind hovers 'neath the swinging 

moon, 
Give me this fleeting moment; all too soon 
The careless day will break upon the hill; 
This last sweet night is mine. The tremulous 

thrill 
Upon thy lips is all the precious boon 
I begged of Heaven, the garish sun of noon 
Is theirs — the rest; mine is this moment's 

will. 

Our love could never be the love of day. 
I have not claimed the welcome of thy lips; 
No touch save fluttering hand, and for the pay 
I gave my minstrelsy of sea and sky. 
Once more thine eyes ! Now sun-stained finger 

tips, 
Send through the hush of dawn a glad good-bye. 
17 



THE KUBY 

Ah, she was fair, this daughter of a queen! 
Jewels upon her breast's soft fall of snow, 
Jewels, in golden hair, and fierce aglow, 
The gem of pride upon her brow serene! 
Sleeping soft moonstone, emerald's baleful 

gi-een, 
A single sapphire, singing soft and low 
Of wars for beauty's sake in years ago. 
And flaming opal, wed with tourmaline. 

Yet was there one gi'eat stone she might not 

wear. 
And so her eyes were weary, and her mouth 
Curved in the listless line of vain desire. 
No diamond pure was hers the right to bear, 
But, crimson poison petal of the South, 
The ruby shone in deep unholy fire. 



18 



SPRING AND 
AUTUMN 

The painted World has laid her jewels down, 
Let fall the pinchbeck hah about her face 
And croons a love song. In a far-off place 
Where she was strutting in her silken gown 
She met the Youth. His face was young and 
brown. 
**Good day to you," she cried, the frosty lace 
About her shoulders trembled. Ah — disgrace ! 
He turned, and left her weeping in the town. 

She smiles not any more, her heart disdains 
The wind's rough courting, loud and indiscreet. 
Her tears dissolve the earth in ceaseless rains, 
And though her searching steps be light and 

fleet 
Through frowning city or soft country lanes, 
Now never more may Spring and Autumn 

meet. 

19 



THE LOST 
MOMENT 

This moment I so careless threw away, 
Tossed to the ages, v/ith a spendthrift hand. 
Little I recked the labor that had planned 
The flash eternal of a summer day; 
^ons of sequent toil had passed to pay 
Wealth to the freighted instant. Slow and 

grand 
"Wavers a solemn dirge across the land. 
One soul, in my lost moment, found a way 
To throw the mock to Time, and call him 

slave. 
And I — a pauper still — gaze wise at last 
To all the grey horizon line of nought. 
But from the heart I deemed an empty grave 
Gleams forth like spark my precious gem of 

past, 
Shrined in the setting of a deathless thought. 



20 



THE COMING OF LOVE 

I DREAMED that loYG Came, as the oak trees 

grow, 
By the chance di'opping of a tiny seed j 
And then from moon to moon with steady 

speed, 
Tho' torn by winds and chilled with heedless 

snow, 
The sap of pulsing life would upward flow, 
Till in its might the heavens themselves could 

read 
Portents of power that they must lean to heed. 
This was my dream, the waking proved not so. 
For love came like a flower, and gTew apace; 
I saw it blossom tenderly and frail 
Till the dear Spring had run its eager race, 
Then the rough wind tossed high the petals 

red; 
The seeds fell far in soil beyond my pale. 
I know not, now, if love be lost, or dead. 
21 



EVENING AT 
WASHINGTON 

The purple stretches of the eYening sky, 
Lean to the fair white city waiting here, 
Flecking with gold the marble's lifted tier, 
Down the blue mai'sh where crows to South- 

wai'd fly. 
Flanked by dim ramparts, where the tide 

dreams by. 
High from the city's heart, a lifted spear. 
In its straight splendor makes the heavens 

seem near, 
Symbol of man-made force that shall not die. 
To the tall crest we gaze in self-command, 
Assm-ed the world's our own and we may dare 
To raise our Babel thro' forbidden aisles 
And hold the skht of knowledge in our hand, 
Great in our moment, spurn the world's 

despair ; 
While Heaven looks down through calm 

unmeasm'ed miles. 



22 



LOVE'S KISS 

Kiss me but once, and in that space 

supreme 
My whole dark life shall quiver to an end, 
Sweet Death shall see my heart and compre- 
hend 
That life is crowned, and in an endless 

gleam 
Will fix the color of the dying stream, 
That Life and Death may meet as friend 

with friend 
An endless immortality to blend; 
Kiss me but once, and so shall end my 

dream. 
And then Love heard me and bestowed his 

kiss, 
And straight I cried to Death: I will not 

die! 
Earth is so fair when one remembers this; 
Life is but just begun! Ah, come not yet! 
The very world smiles up to kiss the sky 
And in the grave one may forget — forget. 
23 



THE SCAKLET 
THREAD 

The sun rose dimly thro' the pallid rain, 
Dear Heart, and liavo we strength to face the 

day? 
The times and life alike are old and grey, 
All worn with long monotonies of pain. 
»Lo — we are working out the curse of Cain, 
Who never felt the fire of passion's sway. 
Ah! show us crimson in some tragic way, 
That we may live! — Eate laughed in her 

disdain. 
A thread of scarlet clash-ed upon mine eyes, 
Hung for a moment and was swept behind, 
And blankly I beheld the hopeless skies, 
Eor day by contrast now is grimmest night; 
Eemembcring light as do the newly blind, 
I pray for death to hide the bitter sight. 



24 



AUTUMN 

The ruddy banners of the Autumn leaves 
Toss out a challenge to the waiting snows, 
Where Winter stalks from o'er the mountain 

rows ; 
This fiery blaze his onward march receives, 
A mock defense his coward heart believes, 
And turns him sulking to his moated close. 
Now Man the confidence of Nature knows, 
And feels the mighty heart that loves and 

grieves. 
Not as in rude young March or hoyden June, 
Hard in their beauty, laughing thro' their days; 
Their fine indifference is out of tune. 
In the dark paths we tread in hope and fear 
Look we to Autumn and her gracious wa3's^ 
The great last swan-song of the dying year. 



35 



THE TIDE OF 
THE HEART 

Love, when you leave me, as with moon- 
bent tide 
The glad waves leave the beaches of my heart ; 
Slowly and indolently they depart 
Eipple by ripple, till the light has died 
And left the naked sands forlorn to bide 
The sea's return. No might of human power 
.Can fill the empty waste, nor take one hour 
From that long durance in Earth's prison 
wide. 

But when you come again, and hold your 

hands. 
Dear hands outstretched to take me, then the 

waves. 
They turn, full flooded on the fainting sands, 
And all the dimpled hollows smile again, 
And brimmed with life the deep mysterious 

caves 
Forget the distant night of lonely pain. 
26 



POEMS 



DOES THE 
PEAEL KNOW? 

Does the pearl know, that in its shade and 

sheen 
The dreamy rose, and tender wavering gi^een, 
Ai-e hid the hearts of all the ranging 

seas, 

That Beauty weeps for gifts aa fair as 
these? 
Does it desire aught else when its rare blush 
Reflects Aurora in the morning^s hush, 
Encircling all perfection can bestow, 
Does the pearl know? 

Does the bird know, when thro' the waking 

dawn. 
He soaring sees below the silvered lawn, 
And weary men who wait to watch the day 
Steal o'er the heights where he may wheel 
and stray? 

29 



DOES THE PEARL KNOW? 

Can lie conceive his fee divine to share, 
As a free joyous peer with sun and air, 
And pity the sad things that creep below, 
Does the bird know? 

Does the heart know, when filled to utter 

brim. 
The least quick throb, a sacrificial hymn 
To a great god who scorns the frown of 

Jove, 
That here it finds the awful power of love? 
Think you the new-born babe in first wise 

sleep 
Fathoms the gift the heavens have bade him 
keep? 
Yet if this be — if all these things are so — 
Does the heart know? 



30 



IN AUTUMN 

The gold-red leaves have burned 
To their last great glov/, and died, 

And under foot 

By the strong oak's root 
They are seized by the angry wind and spurned 
And into a common grave have turned 

For Summer, warm and wide. 



A year must a sapling wage 
Its life with the sun and rain, 

Then its tender youth, 

Without reck or ruth, 
Is frozen and beaten to harsh old age, 
By a stroke of the Nature mother's rage; 

And the sturdy fight seems vain. 



31 



IN AUTUMN 

It wails to the oak o'er head 
As the coffin-cold wraps round, 

*'The end of life 

Is toil and strife, 
And the secret of being, I have found 
Is a seed in the wind and a log on the ground. 

I hope I shall soon be dead.'' 

**Peace, little struggler, sleep," 
And the great oak croons a song, 

"Death is but night 

And a cradle white, 
For one dark space may the shadows creep; 
Then Spring will rise from her dungeon keep 

And life wake, wise and strong." 



32 



WAITING 
FOR DAY 

Sweet Lady Night is paling white. 

Why lags her Lord and Master? 
She, weeping, lays her jewels off; 

Ah! may he not come faster. 

But hush — the tender rosy blush 

Her beauty fair adorning, 
Her love steps o'er the mountain's rim, 

They kiss — and here's the morning. 



33 



THE ANGEL OF 
INDIFFEKENCE 

A Man once loved a Woman, in the days 
of old, 
*'Our bond is the strongest in the world," 
they said, 
The Angels np above 
**Are jealous of our love, 
Perhaps they are wishing we were dead, 
overhead." 

So they loved for a Time and the passing 

of a Time 
And the Angel of Indifference, smiling down, 
saw their fire. 
And he covered for a space 
With his sombre wings his face. 
That they twain might have of love all 
desire, without tire. 

34 



THE ANGEL OF INDIFFERENCE 

But love's perfect joy within them burned 

at last to a flame, 
Till they longed for a breeze that would 
gently cool the heat. 
For absence' cooling snow 
They sighed apart and low, 
Tho' they murmured still their love, hand 
and heart loath to part. 



But at length they prayed together to the 
calm Angel, pale, 
*'Ah! we yearn, scorched and weary for the 
peace of thy breast, 
For that land where love seems 
But the shadow of dreams, 
Where all sleep in the silver of the West, 
give us rest." 



35 



THE ANGEL OF INDIFFERENCE 

He heard, and he bore them to the cool 

grey heights, 
"Where all men may drift and himself alone 
stands fast. 
And gave them for their token 
The peace of dreams unbroken. 
Where their souls, his faithful vassals, rest 
at last, from the past. 



BEAR BEAD 
WOMEN 

The winds have chilled the loving odorous 
South, 
All wan and grey she seeks a place to die, 
Her tossing hair, her pleading passionate mouth, 
Pity that things so fair in dust must lie; 
But Winter holds and kills her with a sigh. 
One kiss he lays upon her lips so proud, 
Shuts the blue eyes and winds her sombre 
ehroud. 

I walk between the narrow way of yew. 

The glowing amaranth di'oops upon its stalk, 
The shivering birds are timorous and few, 
And waifs of Summer strew th' untended 

walk; 
With vague sweet forms I seem to pass and 
talk. 
The ladies of those days in Summer's prime 
Whose smiles prevailed not for the frown of 
Time. 

37 



DEAR DEAD WOMEN 

Their little tripping feet reluctant turned 
Down the dark paths they had not known 
before ; 
Behind them all the glow of living burned, 
But they must enter thro' the gloomy door. 
And leave behind the loves that plead no 
more 
The dear frivolity of wiles and ways 
They neither need nor know in these grim 
days. 

Here in their garden's close I spend no tear, 
No smile— too rare the heights for such 
display. 

But on the frosted hedges' lifted spear 
And with my head a little bowed, I lay 
A pale camelia, proud and cold as they 

Who wait beneath their ashen pall of snow. 

Perhaps the fair dead dames will see and know. 



38 



THE GRAVE 
OF HOPE 

There's a wild little gnome in the wood 

Who sings as he digs a grave, 
Of Hojoe that soars and Hope that flies 
And Hope that singes her wings and lies, 

In peace where the willows wave. 

And he croons in the pauses of toil, 

A shivering song of Fears, 
The lean black shades of Hope so fair 
Who weave her nets with her golden hair 

And harry her down the years. 

And he knows she will perish at last, 

He has carved her name on the stone 
While the trees draw near, and forget to sleep, 
And the little leaves bend their heads and weep, 
For Hope that must die alone. 



39 



TREES OF THE 
WILDERNESS 

The great bleak trees stand up against the sky, 
Lifting their naked arms in ceaseless pra3^er 

To the unpitying heavens, that they might die, 
Rather than drag their weary lives out there. 

Thro' starless nights the untold hours wear on, 
All awful phantom shapes affright the wood. 

And morning light but brings th' unwinking 
sun, 
To torture with its glare their solitude. 

Li those gi'im wilds no sweet voiced bird will 
sing, 
No flowers will bloom w^ithin such trackless 
lands, 
Nor is there trace of any living thing, 

Save those gaunt giants, holding up their 
hands. 

40 



TREES OF THE WILDERNESS 

And when they fall, still round the unknown 

spot, 

Howls the rough wind, till in the common 
gi'ound, 

They end the life which is, and yet is not, 

A riddle where no meaning shall be found. 



41 



THE LOVE OF 
THE ROSE 

Tkilled forth the Nightingale 
In sweetest sleep of day, 

Unto his love, the rose, 

"Ah, golden heart, nnclose! 
For love, my fairest rose, will last for aye." 

So, thro' the waning night 
She learned to wear her crown; 

Yielded her heart's sweet strife 

And found that love was life 
Set to the tune the dear bird lilted down. 

But when the morning came 
The red sun burned above; 

Hid are the night birds all. 

Flower petals fade and fall; 
The rose is dead — and what became of love! 

42 



IN THE 
GREEN YEW 

The wind is howling in angry pain, 
Ah me, and I cannot rest, 
On snch a night home is best; 
Why does she stand in the same old place, 
With the smile of smiles on her cold white 
face, 
And call me thro' the rain? 



Ah ! the Wind has died from the Fear of her 
smile. 

And I creep quite still 

On over the hill. 
To where she stands in the scented yew. 
And where I now am standing too, 

And she sees mo all the while. 



43 



IN THE GREEN YEW 

A little green snake curls thro' her hair, 
The scent of the yew is strong and sweet, 

Her eyes have drawn me to her feet, 
And I lie along on the drenching ground 
And worship, and watch the snake curl round, 

His tongue shoots thro' the air. 

Now, slowly she takes her eyes from me, 

And I di'eam and wait, 

Till in shades of hate 
My love of her smile has faded quite, 
And I spring to kill her, there in the night, 

But only the yew I see, 



44 



THE DEAD 
NIGHT 

The strong brave Night is dead. Its endleas 
deeps 
Of patient tenderness ; the moon, bright still 
When every silver lake and purple hill 
Hold wise unfathomed converse with the steeps 
Of starry heaven, is past. All nature weeps 
And draws the veiling grey of morning mist, 
Upon the lips that Night's last clouds have 
kist. 
The Night that watched so well the world who 
sleeps. 

The Night is dead, alas, and pallid Day, 
Is but the corpse laid out in cold array. 
The white sad emblem of the heart we knew. 

Through half closed lids the eyes shine palely 
blue, 

45 



THE DEAD NIGHT 

The gleaming grave clothes cover all the rest, 
So cruel still lies now the air's sweet breast 
And trees and hills fold down calm hands 
and eyes, 

That none may gness their secret mysteries. 



46 



SONG 



Softly sighs the gracious wind, 
Dash of rose, in deeps of sky, 

Love is fair and love is kind, — 
Singing free, I passed him by. 

Shredded clouds are whirled in air, 
Winter stalks adown the gale, 

Tossing wide Love's golden hair; 
Cease the singing, Love grows pale. 



Howls the grey sky to the sea, 

Loose the storm-dogs from their bed, 

Turned I back, and woe is me, 
I must die, for Love is dead. 



47 



SIGH NOT 
FOR LOVE 

Sigh not for love, the ways of love are dark! 
Sweet Child, hold up the hollow of your 
hand 
And catch the sparks that flutter from 

the stars ! 
See how the late sky spreads in flushing 
bars! 
They are dead roses from your own dear 
land. 
Tossed high by kindly breezes ; lean, and hark , 
And you shall know how morning glads her lark ! 
The timid Dawn, herself a little child, 
Casts up shy eyes in loving worship, dear, 
Is it not yet enough? The Spring is here. 
And would you weep for winter's tempest 
wild? 
Sigh not for love, the ways of love are dark! 

48 



AMBITION 
AND LOVE 

Sweet, in tlie golden morning of my clays, 
With young tempestuous joy I reared my 
head 

To gaze adown the splendid sunlit wa3^s 
Where all the fires of fame burned glory red, 
I recked not where the sounding arches led, 

If at the end I gained my august bays. 



But as of old, when through the patient night, 
Fair losing or fair gaining, till the morn. 

Great Israel strove to break the angel's might, 
Till spent and failing, in his heavenly scorn, 
Th' immortal wrestler touched the earthly 
born. 

Striking him powerless, winning thus the fight; 



49 



AMBITION AND LOVE 

So did false Fortune, when I strove and 
fought 
Smiling 'neath half -closed eyelids, when 
seemed won, 
For a brief hour, the beckoning goal I 
sought, 
Then with frustrating touch dimmed all 

my sun, 
Blotted the work and faith so brave begun; 
But what I gained was none too dearly 
bought. 

I have no wreaths to lay before your feet; 

There shines no future, and the past is dead ; 
But you have heard m.e, and I love you. 
Sweet, 
The low sun crowns with gold your gracious 

head. 
The heavy lilies nod upon their bed; 
T look at you, and find my life complete. 



50 



TO B. D. 

Broad browed beneath a clond of dusky hair, 
Her eyes are midnight seas that never sleep, 

But see beyond the dull world's heavy air, 
The mystery of ages buried deep. 

The faint sweet shadows trembling round her 
mouth, 
Lighten with youth and love the Sphinx's 
face. 
And as she moves a soft -^dnd from the South 
Floating, flower -laden seems, so sweet her 
gi'ace. 

Aloof she stands, from idle mirth and tears, 
And keeps the white sails of her spirit furled, 

Altho' a girl, pure from the stain of years. 
An ancient Egypt, smiling at the world. 



51 



LITTLE 
SAD FACE 

Little sad face, come close, so close to mine, 

See tlirough these eyes the sweetness of 

the day, 

Feel how the sunbeams dance in summer 's wine, 

Hold fast my hands and let our pulse combine, 

And with my steps dance down the happy way ; 

For youth is love and love is light and gay, 

Little sad face. 

Little sad heart, come close, so close to mine. 

And know the utmost limits of the will 
Of all the worlds, till soft thy heart divine 
A joy which can encompass gi'ief like thine; 
Hide in my breast, and let faint pulses 

thrill. 
For youth is love, and love is great and still, 
Little sad heart. 



62 



LITTLE SAD FACE 

Little sad soul, which ne'er can come to 
mine, 
So great in loneliness of grey despair, 
There is not one whose spirit may entwine 
With thee, the world looks on without a sign; 
Go, hide thy face within thy tossing hair. 
Thyself veil close with smiles, for none will 
care, 

Little sad soul. 



53 



EARTH'S TEAES— 
AND MAN'S 

These slanting lines of hoary rain 

Are as my giizzled hair; 
The face of earth is old with pain 

As mine, with dull despair. 

. And yet, one sun will gild the air, 
Earth's tears were not in vain; 
No smile can ease mine eyes of care 
Or make me young again! 



54 



I HAVE SEEN WHAT 
THE SERAPHS 
HAVE SEEN 

I HATE seen what the seraphs have seen 

As they gaze thro' the limitless air, 

Thro' the wind and the clonds to the lean 

Pale face of the moon, and the bare 

Bright flame of the snn, unaware, 

I have seen what the seraphs have seen! 



Thro' the limitless spaces of air 

The brave mists that waver and wane, 

Are patient and pensive and fair. 

I have fathomed the pride and the pain 

Of the snows and compassionate rain 

Thro' the limitless spaces of air. 



55 



WHAT THE SERAPHS HAVE SEEN 

I have known them, the hrave mists that wane 
And the glory and peace of the skies, 
Where all strife and impatience are vain 
And ahnsh ai'e all passionate sighs, 
For I gazed in the deep of Love's eyes, 
And I know what no seraph shall gain! 



56 



A LASS FROM 
THE WOODS 



A LASS from the woods 
With a leaf in her hair! 
And the rain of the night 
And the wind of the morn, 
They both quivered right; 
For my spirit forlorn 
In a garment of white 
And a laugh newly born 
Spring in maddest of moods; 
Like a blossom in air 
To the kiss of the sun, 
And the curl of the breeze; 
Caught the cobwebs begun. 
In the hush of the trees, 
All my beatings were one 
With the swu'l of the seas. 



57 



A LASS FROM THE WOODS 

Dead the creature that broods 
In a tangle of care; 
There's a lass from the woods 
With a leaf in her hair. 



58 



WAS THERE 
ANOTHER SPRING? 

Was there another Spring than this? 
I half remember through the haze 
Of glimmering nights and golden days, 
A broken pinioned birdling's note, 
An angry sky, a sea-wrecked boat, 
A wandering through rain-beaten ways! 
Lean closer, love — I have thy kiss! 
Was there another Spring than this? 



59 



TO DIANE 

The ruddy poppies bend and bow 

Diane! do you remember? 
The sun you knew shines proudly now, 
The lake still lists the breezes voav, 
Your towers are fairer for their stains, 
Each stone you smiled upon remains. 

Sing low — where is Diane? 
Diane! do you remember? 

I come to find you through the years, 

Diane! do you remember? 
For none may rule my love's soft fears. 
The ladies now are not your peers, 
I seek you thro' your tarnished halls. 
Pale sorrow on my spirit falls. 

High, low — where is Diane? 
Diane! do you remember? 



60 



TO DIANE 

I crush the poppies v/here I tread 

Diane! do you remember? 
Your flower of life, so bright, so red — 
She does not hear — Diane is dead. 
I pace the sunny bowers alone 
Where naught of her remains but stone. 

Sing low — where is Diane? 
Diane does not remember. 



61 



BIRD-LOVE 
ROSE-LOVE 

If you were but a rose, dear love, 
And I yoar bird, with dip of wing 
To tell a i3romise of the Spring 
And with a golden swift caress 
My happy careless love confess, 
No pain such gentle vows could bring, 
No tears should stay my flight above, 
If you were but a rose, dear love. 



Bird-love, rose-love, to last the day. 

Why shall not we whose hearts are light 
Put by the coming of the night. 



62 



BIRD-LOVE — ROSE-LOVE 

Catch glints of raptui'e from the sky, 
The scents that swing where lilies lie, 
And ring them to a garland white, 

To ease the pain of life away? 

Bh-d-loye, rose-love, to last the day! 



THE JOY 
OF LIFE 

Her hair was twined with vine leaves thro' 
the gold, 
The leopard skin about her shoulders flung, 
Showed gleams of her as marble, fair and 
cold; 
I breathed not, listening to the song she 
sung. 

** Hither and thither thro' the solemn world, 
Glory of purple, passionate blazing red, 
Glints thro' the glooin, and thro' the grey- 
is swirled. " 
Ah! but the leaves twined sweet about 
her head. 

** Heedless, men pass me in their search for life. 
Hunting for altars to their souls' fine fires, 
64 



THE JOY OF LIFE 

Crying the sun or joy of toil and strife 
And know not that 'tis I, their heart 
desires. 

They dream not that the sheen on pea- 
cock's breast, 
The haze and perfume of a summer's day, 
The silver stealing o'er the twilight West 
Are joys more rich than all the world's 
display. " 



65 



MIST 

Mist on the sea; like a great bird's pen- 
dulous wing, 
Broken and hushed, it trails on the face 
of the main. 

Down comes the sun, a red shot from a 
merciful sling, 

. Burning its heart with swift death as an 
end to the pain. 



66 



THE LAST 
CLOUD 

A KED rose cloud upon the evening sky, 
A warrior cloud which dies in gallant fight, 
Too proud for prisons of triumphant night. 
Knowing no pause, no strain of changing 

years. 
Its little hour too short for dreams or tears. 
The faithful sun its fii'st and latest light — 
AYho would not so be glad to fight and die! 
A red rose cloud upon the evening sky. 



67 



SONG 



LoYE 13 a broken lily 

A pale and crownless rose, 
With golden heart made chilly 

By traitor touch of snows. 
So sleep, my heart, lie sleeping, 

Nor open weary eyes, 
For waking is but weeping, 

And Sleep is Paradise. 

Love is a cadence trailing. 

Where broken music falls, 
A hapless shadow . sailing 

Across deserted walls. 
So still, my heart, lie sleeping 

Till love's hot sun be set, 
For waking is but weeping; 

Asleep, sad eyes forget. 



68 



IN THE GRAVE 

Deae Love, do you wake in that land where 

my waking is done? 
Do you bare your brave head to the wind 

and the clouds and the sun? 
And is summer aflame? 

Or has the night fallen to sleep on earth's 

wonderful breast, 
And with it, all joys, save but you, who are 

dearest and best, 

Wakeful, sighing my name? 

Sometimes as I sleep, the sweet rain flickers 

over my head, 
And smiling, I di'eam of the tears that your 

sorrow has shed; 

Then I sigh and awake. 



69 



IN THE GRAVE 

For tlie di'eams oi the grave are the dreams 

that have died in the morn, 
And their ghosts alone haunt the cold earth 

where their maker was born, 
For a woman's sweet sake. 

Perhaps you are singing, and winding the 

garlands of May; 
Not mine be the hand to withhold you the 

golden to-day, 

Or give pause to your song. 

Perhaps the sweet blossoms may charm the 

grave's pestilent breath. 
Ah! life is so short; so forget and be glad, 

dear, for death 

Is so terribly long. 



70 



THE FLOWERS OF 
PROSERPmE 

The jewels of the sun are not more rare 

Than these that lie across my liu'id walls. 
The perfume's kiss upon the drowsy air 
Is sweet as Spring can hold within her halls ; 
The spell which night may cast about her 
thralls 
Is mine; the length of all this gloomy land 
Knows no more sun than falls from my white 
hand. 

My wealth great kings have prayed for, in 

their pride, 
Bowing before me. Nay, I hate the place, 
I am no queen at heart, my laughter died 
That I might wear my crown with regal 

gTace, 
The yery flowers which smile on my sad face 
I am afraid of. See! they are the worst 
Of all my fears; so fair, yet black accurst. 



71 



THE FLOWERS OF PROSERPINE 

The languid passion-poppy sways and dips 
To show the black heart bursting into flame. 

The crimson evil of a satyr's lips, 

A sneering nodding finger-post of shame; 
A thousand other flowers without a name 

Huddle all trembling in the dusk behind, 

Like hunted ghosts, whose eyes are white 
and blind. 

The grass is not the gi-ass that overhead 
Cooled my bare feet v/ith daisies' purest 
snows ; 
But thick pale blades, like fingers of the dead 
Thrust from forgotten gi-aves upon their 

foes. 
Ah! horrid soil! for everything that grows 
In this confine but mocks, in wicked scorn, 
The fairness of the land where I was born. 



72 



PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY 
AND SONS COMPANY AT THE 
LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



llliiifll! 



018 477 552 9 



SOME VERSES 

hy 

HELEN HAY 



